


Malfoy to Thank

by ravenslight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheesy Christmas Trope, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fake Dating-ish, Friends to Lovers, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), i'm late, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenslight/pseuds/ravenslight
Summary: When Draco Malfoy won’t leave Hermione alone, she takes matters into her own hands. One fake date with Harry to the Ministry’s Yule Ball can’t hurt, right? After all, that’s what friends are for.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 269
Collections: Dumpster Fire SS 2019





	Malfoy to Thank

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmerlin/gifts).



> Happy Christmas, Kait! True to form, I procrastinated this to the very last minute and then some; I actually wrote it on my flight back to Kansas, so thanks for distracting me from my crippling fear of heights + giant metal tubes hurtling through the night sky lol I hope you had a wonderful Christmas, and here’s to 2020 bringing you everything you wish for and more! Love you, wonderful lady!

Hermione Granger was happy with her work, thank you very much.

As the head of the Department for Muggle Relations, Hermione enjoyed overseeing and implementing new programs designed to facilitate Muggle and magical cohabitation. It wasn’t always easy, but it was worthwhile work, and she always went home happy, albeit exhausted.

What she didn’t love about her job was that she—regrettably—had to work in _very_ close contact with one Draco Malfoy, who had spearheaded the new department and she supposed she owed her job to.

One Draco Malfoy who, she had discovered recently, harbored a horrible crush on her that she couldn’t seem to discourage no matter how hard she tried. 

He found her everywhere. In her office hours after she’d made a show of leaving early for the day. At the owl exchange when she sent out memos to the various international Ministries. He even was known to lurk outside the loo when she disappeared for a quick breather after her harried lunches.

The man was a menace.

And today was no different.

She was hunched over her desktop, quill scratching hurriedly across a piece of parchment that was due to the French Minister for Magic in little under twelve hours. To her utter despair, a conference door opened just down the hall from her office, and Malfoy’s unmistakable snark issued from within. The conference room was only three doors down from hers, and though she scrambled for the wand holding her bun up, it wasn’t quick enough. His voice grew louder and the footsteps slowed to a stop.

A flick of her wrist to slam the door shut would be too obvious, so maybe if she just concentrated really—

“Ahh, Granger, you’re a hard woman to track down.” She could tell he’d aimed for sultry with the low, drawling tone, but it only served to grate on her ears.

Pinching her eyes shut, she settled her quill down beside her parchment whilst drawing in her bottom lip to keep from cursing aloud. After a moment, she looked up at him, a brittle smile on her lips. “Malfoy. What can I do for you today?”

The way his lips curled up in a smarmy smirk told her that it was the wrong question to ask, and he strolled through her open doorway, stopping just on the other side of her desk. “Granger, the Minister’s Yule Ball is this weekend. Tonight, actually, if I’m not mistaken.” 

_Bugger_.

Sweeping upright, Hermione waved a hand at the parchment, watching as it curled into a tight scroll before another flick of her wrist affixed her wax seal to the front. When it settled in her hand, she returned her gaze to him. “Is it? I’d forgotten; you know how busy I’ve been with the new integration legislation set to go into effect in the new year.”

Malfoy nodded, slipping his hands into his pocket and rocking up onto his toes, an uncharacteristic display of nerves for the pureblood git. “Luckily for you, I haven’t.” He smiled again, an edge of confidence returning to his face. “I actually stopped by to see if you wanted to go with me. As my date.” 

Tension settled over her shoulders as he continued talking, something about making sure she had a good experience at the black tie event, but her mouth opened, words tumbling out of her before she was fully aware of what she was saying. “I appreciate it, Malfoy, but I have a date.”

Malfoy froze, his pointed features turning glacial as he sniffed once, trying to wipe the disappointment off his face. “Right. Well, I’m happy for you, then.” His hand wound up behind his neck, and he looked around her office, suspicion evident in the slant to his brows. “Who?”

Unbidden, a slight squeak left her throat, and Hermione busied herself with tidying her already clean desk. “I don’t really believe that’s any of your business, Auror Malfoy.” Gathering her files into her arms, she moved around the end of her desk, intent to head for the door and back to her flat for the evening. 

A snicker met her declaration as he stepped into her space. “ _Auror_ Malfoy? Granger, you’re too transparent for your own good. You only use my title when you’re uncomfortable or lying.” 

Indignation straightened her spine. Whether or not that was the truth didn’t matter; Hermione Granger didn’t like to be challenged. “What makes you believe that you’re so— so _important_ that it warrants me lying to you?”

Malfoy towered over her, staring down his stupid, pointed nose. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” Inexplicably, he stepped into her space, his eyes flitting to her lips.

Hermione wanted to scream, but she stepped back instead, reveling in the way Malfoy rocked forward in her sudden absence and then suddenly deflated. Her mind whirred to find an answer, and suddenly it clicked: Harry.

Harry owed her one for saving him from an awful date with Romilda Vane. 

Harry, whose recent bad luck with dating had definitely not been on her mind far more often than was strictly necessary for her best friend.

Harry, who had definitely grown into himself with all that extra Auror training. Harry, who she absolutely _did not_ get butterflies around whenever he looked her way.

He was her best friend, for Merlin’s sake. Thinking about the way his shoulders filled out his Auror uniform and his waist cut into a trim tee was absolutely out of line. 

She mentally shook herself, focusing on the task at hand and shoving _those_ thoughts back into the back of her mind _where they belonged._ Perhaps not the best idea to spring this favour on Harry at the absolute last second, but desperate times. Finally, Hermione settled on, “I can prove I’m not lying.” Flitting her tongue out, she cocked her head to the side. “Follow me.”

Summoning her Ministry badge, Hermione marched around Malfoy. She didn’t wait for him to follow, but after a moment, she heard her office door close behind her, followed by Malfoy’s telltale loping walk.

The walk to Harry’s office wasn’t overly complicated, particularly not since Hermione had traversed it so often she could do so in her sleep. Past the Magical Creatures wing, take a left on the far side of the water cooler, walk swiftly past the Auror receptionist whilst flashing her badge so as to not be trapped in awkward small talk, arrange her face into a carefully blank expression whilst walking through the bullpen, and finally breeze through Harry’s office with nary a knock.

The whole trip there, though, she worried what she’d say, how she’d get Harry to play off the lie convincingly enough that Malfoy would leave her be. By the time she made it to Harry’s door, she still hadn’t come up with a plan of action.

She’d never been the best at winging it. 

Her first indication that today was different should have been the door closed carefully. Harry rarely shut the door, and when he did, it was usually because he had a lot of work to get through and didn’t want to be disturbed. So when she pushed the door open with a wide smile on her face and eyebrows comically high to warn Harry to _follow her lead, dear Merlin_ , she halted at the presence of no less than six delegates from Auror departments across the international magical community. With an audible “oof, Malfoy walked into her back.

Seven pairs of eyes swung to stare at the intruder, and Hermione froze, all words failing her. Harry’s expression grew worried, and he pushed up out of his chair, hurrying across the floor until he stood before her. “Hermione, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

All reason had apparently abandoned her because, instead of answering like a sane person, she flung herself at her best friend, slanting her lips awkwardly against his.

It was like kissing a statue at first, a very warm, human-like statue, but then Harry’s lips softened infinitesimally. For just a moment, Hermione felt him lean into the kiss as his hands came up to grip her elbows. She also allowed herself to sink into the rather pleasant embrace, her stomach flip-flopping before a throat cleared around a laugh.

“Err, Auror Potter? The security detail for the Yule Ball?” The speaker’s heavy French accent was laced with humour.

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm under the scrutiny from everyone around her as she leaned away from Harry, putting distance between them. “Er… I just wanted to say hello.” The men laughed at the pitch her voice had taken, somewhere between squeaky and shrill, and she cleared her throat whilst waggling her eyebrows up and down to try to gain Harry’s attention. “Speaking of the Yule Ball… we’re still set to go together, yeah?”

For his part, Harry recovered quickly and nodded after a quick glance over her shoulder. “Yeah… pick you up at six tonight, right?”

Relief coursed through her as she shot a brilliant smile his way. “Six it is.” A woman with a blunt bob coughed discreetly behind Harry as Hermione found her gaze lingering on her friend’s face. She shook her head with another quick smile and backed away. “See you tonight.”

Hermione pulled the door shut, resting her forehead against the wood grain just below Harry’s name plate. _Bugger_.

And then Malfoy drawled behind her, “Well that was quite the show, Granger.”

Affixing a smile to her face, she whirled around, striding back to her office. “You asked who my date was; I thought it was better practice to show you.”

Malfoy hummed, his footsteps still following her, and she’d just made it to the lift when he said, “If Potter arses it up, you know where to find me.” 

* * *

It was half five and Hermione still hadn’t gotten dressed for the ball. 

She’d already perfectly steamed her dress. Her jewelry was laid out on the vanity in her room. A quick summoning charm would have her shoes appear before her with little to no effort.

In fact, the only thing she’d been capable of all afternoon was lying on her bed staring up at the ceiling wondering what in Merlin’s name that had all been about. 

Hermione had never nursed an inkling of attraction to Harry… not until after the war. Not until her relationship with Ron and Harry’s with Ginny’s had fizzled out. The wizard had always been more like a brother to her; they had grown up together, for Merlin’s sake. The very same familial inclination was why things hadn’t worked out between her and Ron. 

But lately, something had shifted. Maybe it was the quiet way Harry avoided being the centre of attention and carefully attributed any and all successes to his employees that got to her. Perhaps it was the way he’d mostly learned to tame his ridiculous hair and had quite grown into his features now that he’d shed the heavy weight the responsibility of war had laid on him. 

Now, she felt ridiculous lying on her bed dwelling over a quick kiss in the spur of the moment to get Malfoy out of her hair.

And yet…

She couldn’t dismiss the way his hands had curled around her elbows and pulled her into him just _so,_ like he’d been waiting to do so for so long and had been afraid if he pulled too much she’d slip away from him. 

And maybe she would have, once upon a time.

But now, Merlin help her, she wanted to know what it would be like to just lean back into that space. If only to see what it meant.

Picking a piece of lint from the ratty pyjama bottoms she’d changed into when she returned home from work—her depression pyjamas, as Angelina had termed them from the _one_ time she’d gone to her and George’s flat following her breakup with Ron—Hermione stared up at the ceiling. She couldn’t think these things about her _best friend_.

In the living room, her floo chimed, and she shot upright, staring at her clock. Harry was early.

Harry was early, and she still wasn’t dressed.

Flying into overdrive, Hermione leapt from the bed, hurtling out to the living room in time to see Harry dust flow powder from his shoulders and the top of his unruly black hair. When he straightened, she froze, eyeing him with a quizzical lift of her brow.

He wasn’t wearing his dress robes. He wasn’t even clad in the Ministry-sanctioned Auror robes he could have got away with wearing as head of security for the event.

Instead, Harry wore a pair of denim trousers and a plain black t-shirt. A far cry from what she expected him to show up in, but he looked comfortable. That is, he looked comfortable until he met her gaze, and Hermione’s throat went dry at everything she saw in his gaze.

Confusion, mostly, swirled in his deep green eyes. Shortly afterward, she noticed trepidation and anticipation chasing one another across his face. 

And the silence… gods she’d spent heaps of moments in silence with Harry before, but none of them had been loaded like this.

Finally, he spoke, his throat working up and down before words escaped him. “What was that, Hermione?”

Busying herself with rearranging a stack of parchment on her side table, Hermione refused to look at him for fear of giving away the uncertainty in her own gaze. “What was what?”

Hands full, Hermione turned to redistribute her paperwork on the opposite corner of the table, but Harry was suddenly there, gaze earnest with an intensity Hermione wasn’t sure she could handle. “In my office, Hermione. What was it?” 

Swallowing around the knot in her throat, Hermione responded, “Malfoy wouldn’t leave me alone; I told him I had a date, so I came to your office to take you up on that favor you owed me from saving you from that awful date with Romilda.” She tried to skirt around her, but his hands were there, clasping her elbows again, and she froze, mouth going dry.

“I would have done it; you know that. All you had to do was ask.” Harry stepped into her space, releasing her elbows to remove the papers from her hands. Once he’d settled them safely on the table, he met her gaze again. “Why did you _kiss_ me, Hermione?”

Oh gods, she couldn’t answer that. Words failed her and suddenly a blush was searing up her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. She was sure that she was glowing from the force of it. But when Harry cocked his eyebrow again, Hermione swallowed harshly and whispered, “Because I wanted to.”

Silence. Several, tense seconds of silence settled between them, and then Harry was flush against her, one hand settling on the curve of her hip over her gods-awful pyjamas and the other sliding over the sensitive skin of her neck, and he tilted her head up to look at him. “Why did you want to?”

Shaking her head as much as she could with his grip on her like that, her eyes darted back and forth between his. That was a question the answer to which she hadn’t allowed herself to consider. But this was _Harry_. There were no secrets between them; there never had been, not for quite some time. And so, instead of answering, Hermione rocked up onto her toes again, carefully lacing her fingers into the disheveled black mop of hair that she’d unwittingly come to adore, and she pressed her lips to his again.

This kiss was different. Unhurried and questioning, Hermione leaned into the embrace for as long as Harry would allow. His lips were slightly chapped, a realisation that made her smile given how often she chastised him for losing the lip balm she always gifted him. But Harry stood stock still, the hand still on her elbow tensing slightly as she leaned backwards.

Hermione peered up at him while drawing her lip between her teeth. Harry stared back at her, eyes wide as his jaw worked. Disappointment settled heavily in her stomach, and Hermione moved to extract her arm from Harry’s grip, but he drew her closer. Her breath caught in her throat on a gasp, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him until Harry tucked his hand beneath her chin and tilted her head upward.

“Did you mean it?” His voice was gravelly and low, eyes darting between hers. At her slight nod, he muttered, “Thank Merlin,” and his lips were on hers again.

Heart soaring, Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck, fitting herself to all the curves and valleys of Harry’s body. It was a clumsy kiss, but Hermione couldn’t help the joy that radiated through her, even as their teeth clicked together awkwardly and they drew apart with huffed laughter. 

“Hi,” she whispered, folding her lips together to contain the ridiculous smile that threatened to overtake her face.

Harry’s answering smile and quiet, “Hey there,” broke her smile free, though, and she beamed up at him.

“So how do we do this?” Harry drew their intwined hands up to his chest, peering down at their interlaced fingers. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship, and it’s all so sudden that I—”

Hermione smiled, leaning into him and pressing a kiss against the corner of his lips to quiet him. “We’ll figure it out together.” 

“And what about the Yule Ball?” 

Hermione glanced down at her ratty pyjamas and then toward the sofa and telly. “How about a movie night instead? Bugger the ball.”

“I was hoping you’d say that; I left security to Auror Barreur.” Harry grinned, leading her toward her sofa when he paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. “You do realise you’ll have to explain what led to this, right?”

She stumbled a step, remembering Malfoy and his incessant flirting, but a sly smile curled up her lips as she followed Harry down onto the overstuffed sofa. “Well, you have Malfoy to thank for that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I'm sorry I'm late! This is also unbetaed and unalphaed so all mistakes are my own.


End file.
